The Serpent's Kiss
by XxXRegretXxX
Summary: Things get complicated when both Snape and Hermione are hit by a curse. Will they be able to break it? And will they grow closer along the way? - AU. Winner of the Pick-a-Plot Contest - Round One.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _This was written for the Pick-a-Plot Challenge by Paris in December._

**Prompt:** _Hermione has been magically confined to Severus' quarters at Hogwarts. This is because they were hit with an ancient bonding curse that has no appreciable effect on Severus, but forces Hermione to obey anything he phrases as an order and to feel pain if he does not touch her regularly._

Hungry, green eyes roved over the page of the book, eagerly taking in every ounce of information. A set of pink lips twitched upward into a satisfied smirk as the book, _"Spells from the Medieval Ages"_, was slammed shut overzealously.

"Interesting."

Hermione sighed in aggravation as her inkwell tipped, sending the black ink oozing across her Ancient Runes essay. As she removed her wand to clean up the mess, she caught a flicker of movement by the shelves that made up the Restricted Section.

She arched a brow as she watched a Gryffindor boy peek his head around the end of the bookcase. The boy glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and then nonchalantly walked from the shelves. An excited grin rested on the boy's mouth as he looked over a piece of parchment in his hands.

She recognized the boy, of course. A fourth year Gryffindor boy by the name of William Oakby. She had never liked him much. Will had always admired the Weasley twins, doing his best to follow in their footsteps. Unfortunately, Will's pranks were often humiliating for all involved, and most times bordered on sadistic and cruel. He just didn't seem to know when to quit. How he was sorted into Gryffindor, she would never understand. He seemed far better suited to the serpentine ways of the Slytherins.

She studied him unobtrusively as he came to sit at the table next to her. Every few seconds he would glance down at the scrap of paper in his hand and smile gleefully. Hermione had a nagging suspicion that he was up to no good.

Pushing her feelings down, she turned her attention back to her essay. She was supposed to theorize on the possible symbolic meanings of the number 7. It wasn't due for another three days, but she had had some free time and wanted to get it out of the way.

"Mr. Oakby, I'm sure that you are aware that you are, once again, late for your detention," a smooth voice drawled.

Hermione startled, quickly looking up at the Potions Master who stood only a few short feet away. Snape had moved so silently that she hadn't heard his approach. She leaned as far away as she could in her chair, intuitively knowing that the situation was going to get very ugly, very fast. She did not want to be caught in the middle of it.

"Quite aware, Professor," Will said, his eyes sparkling wickedly.

Hermione's eyes widened at his complete disregard for authority. Professor Snape's jaw clenched in anger and his mouth dipped into a sneer.

"50 points from Gryffindor, Mr. Oakby."

Hermione made a small, indignant noise in the back of her throat. They did not seem to notice her presence though, as neither of them looked away from the staring contest they were now locked in.

"The Headmaster's office. Now." Snape looked almost venomous now, and Hermione had no doubt that if he had been allowed to jump across the table and throttle that arrogant boy, he would have. Instead, he settled for turning and stalking towards the library's exit.

Will, however, chose not to move. He mumbled something, but even Hermione, as close as she sat to him, could not understand it. A disturbing grin crossed his face, but it was gone as fast as it had appeared.

Suddenly, Hermione's body was filled with an odd tingling sensation. It felt as if every part of her body had abruptly fallen asleep. Then came a rush of lightheadedness, and she swayed dizzily in her seat. She frowned in confusion, clutching her head until the sensation had passed.

Looking up, she noticed that Snape had frozen in place, and stood staring suspiciously at Oakby. After a moment, he seemed to shrug the feeling off, and continued on his way. "Mr. Oakby, follow me."

This time, William relented and followed Snape from the room. She pursed her lips thoughtfully as she watched them leave, wondering what exactly he had done to garner so much trouble with the Potions professor.

Once again turning back to her essay, she scrawled a few more lines in her neat handwriting before pushing the paper away in frustration. She was no longer in the mood to do schoolwork. Packing her things, she stood and headed towards the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione was in pain. So much so, that her vision was going dark around the edges. Tears poured down her face and she arched her back, as wave after wave of excruciating pain wracked her body. She tried to scream, but she couldn't get enough air into her lungs to manage it.

She was vaguely aware of a crowd of people gathering around her, all of them jostling to get a good view of what was happening. She thought she saw Harry hovering somewhere above her, but she couldn't be sure. Her surroundings had gone hazy a long time ago.

Then, she was aware of being carried, but she didn't understand why. Where could they possibly be taking her? Couldn't they just leave her alone?

Then, her surroundings were blindingly white. The Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey appeared, and began pouring a variety of potions down her throat. Hermione lashed out and tried to resist, but strong hands held her still and forced her to swallow the foul liquid.

Hours passed, or maybe it had just been a few minutes. There was no way of telling when her mind was so preoccupied with the pain. No amount of potions or spells seemed to help. In fact, it seemed as though the pain intensified with every second that passed.

Suddenly, there was the pale face of Professor Snape staring down at her curiously. As she arched her back again, he reached out a hand to push her back down on the bed. The aching of her body lessened so considerably at his touch that she let out a cry of relief.

She reached out quickly to grasp his arm. He spluttered and tried to move away, but she held firm. Hermione sighed as the pain gradually lessened to a quiet throb before disappearing completely. Her head sagged on the bed, exhausted. The last thing she saw before surrendering to the darkness of sleep were the perturbed faces of everyone around her.

Hermione cracked her eyes open groggily, and struggled to swallow against the lump in her throat. She blinked a few times before her eyes adjusted to the light. Glancing around the room, she realized she was still in the infirmary.

"'Mione, you're awake."

Turning her head to the side, she met the relieved eyes of Harry. Ron sat next to him; slumped over in his chair, gentle snoring emanating from him.

"He's exhausted. I suppose you are, too. How are you feeling?" he asked concernedly, as he leaned forward towards her.

"Fine, I suppose. A little sore. How long have I been asleep?" she said, her voice still slightly hoarse.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair. "Only about two and a half hours."

When she did not speak, he stared at her for a long moment. Then his eyes widened in bewilderment, and he shook his head. "What just happened, Hermione?"

Releasing an unsteady breath, she admitted, "I don't know. All I remember is that I was in the common room, and I started to feel sick. The pain just kept getting worse, no matter what I did. Then I woke up here. You probably know more than I do."

He nodded his head slowly. "Ron and I brought you here. But no matter what Pomfrey did, nothing seemed to help. You just kept screaming and crying. It was terrible, 'Mione." His voice had trailed off to a whisper. "Then Snape came. You grabbed his hand, and wouldn't let go. I've never seen him look so panicked before." Here, he chuckled mirthlessly. "And then, suddenly, you were fine again. No one really knows what happened. Dumbledore thinks you might have been cursed."

Her eyes shot open. "Cursed?" she breathed in disbelief. "But, why?"

Harry grabbed her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. "I don't know, 'Mione. I don't know."

Hermione let out a gasp of surprise as a familiar sensation passed through her. Tightening her grip on his hand, she whimpered, "It's happening again."

Hermione sat in one of several beds in the Hospital Wing, her body shaking violently. Her fourth "episode", as Pomfrey had taken to calling them, had just ended. It was maddening.

No matter what counter-curses, potions, or herbs they tried, not one thing had an effect. Not one thing other than _his_ touch. Professor Snape. Her body seemed to instantly calm whenever they made contact. She considered it a traitorous action, needing the one person at the school who loathed her above all else.

She glanced over at the door to Madam Pomfrey's office, which Snape and Dumbledore had disappeared through several minutes ago. At one point, she had thought that she had even heard shouting.

She crossed her arms over her chest in irritation. Of course, they were talking about her. Why they couldn't include her in the conversation was beyond her. They were probably debating whether or not to put her out of her misery. She laughed quietly to herself, but there was no humor behind the sound.

Dumbledore had sent Harry and Ron back to the common room long ago. At first, they had protested strongly, but Hermione had insisted that they get some rest. They had left rather reluctantly, promising to visit her before breakfast.

Now, however, Hermione wished that she had begged them to stay. She had nothing to do except sit and wait for the next flood of pain. Looking for a means of distraction, she tilted her head up and began to count the number of stones in the ceiling.

When she had counted fifty-six stones, the door of Pomfrey's office swung open and bashed violently against the wall. Snape stalked from the office, looking more livid than she had ever seen him before. When he noticed her gaze on him, he sneered hatefully at her. Professor Dumbledore followed behind him, looking rather grim.

Dumbledore came to stand next to her bed, and took her hand gently into his. Blue eyes twinkling sadly, he said, "Miss Granger, I am so sorry that you have to go through this. We are going to find out who did this to you, and they will be severely punished, I promise you that. But, as of now, we do not know what spell was used." He took a deep breath before continuing on, "I'm sure you've noticed by now that only Professor Snape's touch seems to stop the pain that you are in."

Her eyes flickered toward Snape, but he appeared to be diligently ignoring the whole discussion. He had moved to one of the windows, and was staring out over the school grounds. As she returned her gaze to the headmaster, she noticed that he was hesitating.

"Miss Granger, until we have figured out exactly which curse was used, I think it best if you stay in Professor Snape's quarters, so that he can be there when you need him."

She frowned in confusion. "Wait, what?"

Snape scoffed, turning from the window to meet her eyes. "You're a smart girl, Granger. I'm sure you can figure it out."

She looked at Dumbledore in alarm, but he merely nodded his head. "Its in your best interests, my dear. A place will be made for you in his quarters. Of course, you will not be able to attend classes in this condition. We will tell the other students that you were sent to St. Mungo's for healing."

Hermione could do nothing more than blink at him. She simply could not comprehend what was happening. She would be staying in the same room as Snape? The man that had spent the last six years of his life constantly degrading her? No, it was impossible.

Dumbledore appeared sympathetic, at least. "I know this will be hard for the both of you, but I think everything will turn out alright in the end." He patted her cheek consolingly. "I will send for your things. Severus will lead you to your new rooms."

He gave one last little smile, before leaving her alone with the dour professor. Snape hadn't stopped glaring at her since Dumbledore had made his announcement. Finally, he turned away and stalked from the room, with only a grumbled, "Follow me."


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione followed Snape as he led her down the stairs, and into the gloom of the dungeons. As they walked, Hermione glanced towards him warily. If he had even the slightest desire to hex her into oblivion (and he certainly looked like he did) now would be the perfect opportunity. There would be no one around save her. No one around to hear her scream.

"Stop looking at me like that," he said through clenched teeth.

Her head immediately tilted toward the ground, even before she had decided to do so. She frowned deeply, but quickly forgot about it as her professor came to a stop in front of a heavy, wooden door.

As he opened it and led her into the room, she quickly realized it was his office. Hermione had never been down here before; the only ones who had were people serving detention or taking private Potions lessons. She had never needed either.

It might have been a cozy room, had it not been for the persistent chill that seeped from the dungeon walls and the almost complete lack of light. There was a small fireplace, the flames desperately trying to beat back the cold. Up against the opposite wall was a desk and chair. There were several bookcases filled to the brim with Potions texts, and a small cupboard that, Hermione knew, would be filled with Snape's private stock of ingredients. The grim professor's personality was painfully apparent in the gruesome paintings and jars of awful things that decorated the room.

Snape continued moving towards the back of the room, coming to a halt by an empty patch of wall. He removed his wand from his robes, using it to tap several different stones. The wall slid aside with the sound of grinding stone, revealing a dimly lit passageway.

Hermione swallowed her anxiety as she followed him down the narrow hallway. It let out onto a spacious sitting room. There were several plush armchairs, another fireplace, and more bookshelves, this time filled with a variety of subjects. She had a feeling that Snape hadn't had much say in how these rooms were decorated, as there was no sense of doom pervading the air.

Snape sighed and lowered himself into one of the armchairs. He grimaced and buried his face in his hands. Hermione stood in the center of the room, watching him and surveying her surroundings numbly.

"Sit down."

He was staring at her now, and she shifted uncomfortably. Just when she was about to open her mouth to tell him that she would much rather remain standing, her body, once again, betrayed her. She felt herself move and sit down in the nearest chair, even though she hadn't wanted to do so. She let out a tiny squeak of surprise, and her eyebrows shot upwards.

So, she definitely hadn't been imagining things earlier. He had told her to do something, and she had had no choice but to obey. Dread flowed through her body as she realized that this must be another part of the curse.

"What?" he snapped.

Her eyes widened, and, shaking her head, she muttered, "Its nothing. Don't worry about it."

It wasn't that she didn't trust him, because she did. Maybe not completely, but she knew that he was loyal to Dumbledore, even if Harry refused to admit it. Still, she didn't feel comfortable with him having the ability to order her around whenever he wanted.

"Tell me."

Oh, no. She hadn't expected that. Hermione bit her lip painfully, trying frantically to stop the words that threatened to spill from her lips. "I think the spell forces me to obey you." She groaned and covered her mouth with her hands.

"What was that?" he asked again, an eyebrow arched.

Surrendering, she dropped her hands to her side and gave him a resigned look. "_I said_ that I think the spell might be forcing me to obey you."

For a moment, he merely looked dubious. Gradually, his expression changed from disbelieving to a burning curiosity. "Stand up."

She stood.

"Jump."

She jumped.

"Touch your nose."

Her fingers came up to lightly skim over her nose. Hermione pursed her lips. "Alright, that's enough!"

The ghost of a smirk crossed his lips, and for a brief instant, she worried what he would do with this information. But no devilish grin crossed his lips; no mischievous look entered his eyes. Nothing at all to suggest that he was about to take advantage of a girl who was half his age. She sighed with relief as he merely nodded in a scholarly manner.

"This might help to narrow down the possible curses. Until then, I'll just have to be careful with what I say."

She smiled gratefully. "Thank you, Professor." But he did not respond, nor acknowledge her in any way.

Snape rose from his seat, and, casting a glance her way, murmured, "This way."

He led her to the bedroom, which proved to be as murky as the rest of the rooms. A large bed donned in emerald green fabric dominated the area. There was another smaller bed pushed against the far wall, as far away from the first bed as it could possibly be. Hermione could see into the bathroom through the open door on the right.

"You should get some rest. I'm sure that you're exhausted," he said, nodding pointedly at the smaller bed. He looked slightly uncomfortable, as though he didn't really know what to do next. The thought almost made her chuckle.

He hesitated for a time, and then took a few awkward steps forward. He extended his arm towards her, palm up. Confused, she merely stared at him before realizing what it was that he was trying to do. She offered her hand, and he reached out for her, his fingers wrapping around her wrist. The contact only lasted for a few seconds before he jerked his hand back, as though her touch had scalded him. But it would be enough to give her a few hours of blissful sleep uninhibited by pain.

Without another word, he turned and stalked from the room. She resolutely decided that whoever had cursed her was going to pay. Severely.


	4. Chapter 4

_**AN –**__ I really didn't expect this story to turn out as popular as it is. Almost 1000 hits in under 24 hours. Pretty cool. But that gave me the necessary inspiration to finish this chapter. Hope you enjoy. And reviews make me smile. _

Hermione woke with a scream in the dead of night. There was a groan from the other bed, and, after a moment, a figure stumbled towards her in the dark, and laid a comforting touch upon her. Gradually, her mind calmed, and she soon realized where she was.

Abashedly, she looked up at the half-asleep Snape. He rubbed his eyes and growled, "I can see I won't be getting any sleep anytime soon."

"Sorry, professor," she mumbled through a yawn.

She heard him grunt before staggering away and collapsing on his bed once more. She yawned again before closing her eyes and drifting into the peaceful darkness of sleep.

The next time Hermione woke, it was caused by the feeling of a hand brushing hers. When she finally managed to crack open her eyes, she was met with the sight of Snape standing over her. She startled slightly, and his eyes narrowed in response.

"I'm going to breakfast now. I will be back at lunch. Don't even try to run off; Dumbledore has set wards on the rooms. You won't be able to leave, and it will most likely prove disastrous should you try."

As he turned to go, she sat quite still. Her mind was still unable to wrap around her current predicament. "Wait!" she cried out indignantly, scrambling out of the bed after him. "So, I'm just supposed to stay here _all day_?"

"Yes," he said shortly.

"Well, what am I supposed to do?"

His brow furrowed. "I don't know. Do whatever it is that teenage girls do."

"Like what? Paint my fingernails? Daydream about boys?" she spluttered. "I'll have gone mad before the day has ended!"

Snape huffed a sigh of impatience. "There are plenty of books to read here. You can start looking through them; see if your curse is mentioned in any. Use the fireplace to call the kitchen if you get hungry. And I'm sure the house-elves would be happy to bring you anything else that you need. Now, if you are done screaming like a child, I have to go."

A dark blush crossed her face as she realized that she had, indeed, acted rather childishly. She nodded her head meekly and mumbled, "Of course."

She frowned to herself, watching as he strode from the room, his robes billowing out impressively behind him. There was a definitive _click_ from the door, and she knew he had gone. She plopped down in one of the armchairs, and stretched her arms above her head.

Looking around at the shelves, she idly wondered where she should begin. Hermione pulled a few Dark Arts books off the shelves at random and then moved back to her seat, tucking her bare feet underneath her. She looked at her selections: _Notable Hexes, Jinxes, and Curses_, _Dark Arts of the Twentieth Century_, and _The Dark Arts Through Time._

Hermione quickly delved into the books, and did not look up again until she felt a firm hand on her shoulder. She raised her brown eyes to meet her professor's. She suddenly realized that she hadn't even noticed the growing discomfort in her body, until he had made contact with her and it had vanished. She had been too wrapped up in her book to take notice of anything other than the words on the page.

"Find anything?" he asked, his eyes roaming over the pile of books at her side. The stack had steadily grown, as each book she went through had no mention of the kind of curse that she was dealing with.

She sighed wearily and shook her head. "Not even anything remotely close."

He nodded slowly. "I see. Have you eaten?"

"Not yet."

He moved towards the fireplace, leaning in closely and calling for a house-elf. Almost instantaneously, a _pop _sounded, and a small house-elf appeared. She appeared to have an extremely nervous disposition. Or maybe it was just because Snape was now glaring down his nose at her. Either way, Hermione sympathized with the poor creature.

The elf wrung her hands anxiously, her large green eyes filling with tears. "What can Mitzi do for you, sir?"

"Miss Granger and I are eating lunch in my quarters today."

The elf nodded emphatically before apparating to the kitchen and back again, clutching two trays almost overflowing with food in her knobby hands. How she had managed to carry it all, Hermione would never know.

Snape pulled out his wand and levitated the trays over to the coffee table. Hermione thanked the elf, and she smiled gratefully before disapparating. She moved over to the couch, sat down, and picked a roll up off the tray. Nervously picking apart the bread, she watched as Snape sat on the other end of the couch, as far away as he could physically be.

Hermione tried to swallow past the lump in her throat. "Professor?" He gave a grunt of acknowledgement, but did not look up at her as he ate. "Well, I was just wondering … what did you tell Harry and Ron?"

He sighed in exasperation. "I thought Dumbledore already made this quite clear. The rest of Hogwarts, aside from the staff, believe that you are at St. Mungo's receiving treatment."

She frowned in thought. "What if someone wants to visit me, or tries to contact St. Mungo's?"

"They won't be allowed. Measures are being taken to prevent it," he said stiffly.

She fell quiet, not entirely satisfied at his explanation. After a few moments of oppressive silence, he cleared his throat and turned to look at her for the first time. "Miss Granger, I am no more happy about sharing my private quarters with a teenage girl, than you are about being locked in this room with me as your only company. Nevertheless, it is Dumbledore's orders, and we have no say in the matter. We will both have to try to cope with this situation. It will take some effort, but I'm sure we can get past the point of wanting to hex each other."

He stood and, without so much as another glance in her direction, left the room.


	5. Chapter 5

Snape stalked from the room, leaving a baffled Hermione Granger far behind. He mumbled a string of profanity under his breath as he entered his classroom and slammed the door. His next class wasn't for another hour, and the room lay as silent as death. He sat down at his desk, enjoying the solitude while he could.

Apparently, this was the only place he could go to be alone anymore. His own quarters weren't even safe. They were infested by an annoying teenager. Know-it-all Gryffindor. Best friend of Harry Potter. Could the list get any worse?

He had the urge, like he usually did, to destroy Albus Dumbledore. Surely the old man devised this scheme just to see him squirm. That seemed to be what the headmaster usually did: put people in awkward situations and watch how they react.

The only way to stop himself from going crazy would be to find out more about this curse, and more importantly the way to get rid of it. Oh Merlin, what if there wasn't a way? He would be stuck with that bossy girl for the rest of his life.

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was starting to get a migraine.

X – X – X – X - X

Hermione spent the day in what she had already dubbed as "her chair". The stack of books by her side steadily grew as she rejected one after the other.

Though she would rather not admit it, she was stumped. She had never heard of a curse like the one she was dealing with. Neither had many other people, if the authors of those books were any indication. She could only guess that it was some obscure curse that only the most avid Dark wizards would know of.

But why would they want to curse her? It just didn't make any sense. Sure, she was one of Harry Potter's best friends, but if it was a supporter of Voldemort that had done this, why hadn't they just killed her instead? Why waste their time with a curse like this? And if it wasn't a Death Eater, who else hated her enough to do it? It could be any of the Slytherins, but surely even they weren't talented enough to cast a spell like this.

Tossing her current book aside haphazardly, she idly wondered what time it was. Her stomach growled loudly and she put a hand over it, blushing even though no one else was around to hear it. "Shh," she whispered and applied more pressure in an attempt to stop the hunger pangs.

Just when she began to consider calling a house-elf, she detected the faint sound of a door opening and closing. A moment later, Snape appeared, his shoes making no noise against the stone floor.

She marveled at his stealth; surely that would be useful to a spy. She wished _she _could be that quiet. Whenever she tried to sneak up on people, they heard her coming from a mile away. It was quite disappointing.

"Miss Granger?" His voice snapped her back to attention.

"Huh?"

"You were staring."

"Oh," she gasped, blushing furiously and quickly turning away.

"I went to the library and brought back some books that might help," he said as he moved to stand in front of her. He held his arms out offering the books to her. As she took them from him, his fingers clutched at hers before he swiftly turned away.

She smiled gratefully, though he gave no notice.

X – X – X – X – X - X

After dinner (which was as awkward and tense as she had expected it to be), they each took a book and retired to separate corners of the room. It was a though Hermione had some highly contagious disease that Snape didn't want to risk catching.

"Granger! Stop fidgeting!"

Her leg, which had been shaking back and forth in nervous agitation, instantly stilled. Hermione aimed a fierce glare in his direction. "Stop doing that!"

He scoffed. "It was a slip of the tongue. But if it stopped that infernal twitching, then I am glad for it."

"It doesn't matter if it was an accident or not! You can't just keep ordering me around. One of these days, you're going to make me do something terrible _without evening realizing it_!" she shouted, losing her temper. Snape's expression turned cold, and she stopped, horrified at what she had just done.

"I'd advise you to hold your tongue when you are in my presence, Miss Granger." His voice was smooth, but even she could hear the layer of venom underneath. "The consequences will be dire should you choose to do otherwise. Ten points from Gryffindor."

She grimaced and nodded meekly. "Sorry, Professor."

His dark eyes flickered back down to his book. "Just keep looking."


	6. Chapter 6

Days passed. The sun rose and set without bringing any hint of a solution to Hermione's problem. She was beginning to think that there wasn't a way out of this mess.

Hermione had learned one thing during her stay in Snape's quarters: never mention the possibility that they might be stuck with each for many days to come. That seemed to be the quickest way to put him in a foul mood. Once, he had actually thrown a book at her (not hard enough to hurt her, mind you, but with enough force to get his meaning across).

If Snape was not in a terribly bad mood, then he was ignoring her completely. His mood swings were severe, switching from one extreme to the next at the drop of a hat. There seemed to be no middle ground with him. Hermione had learned what to say, how to say it, and when to steer clear of him entirely rather quickly.

"Professor?" she broached cautiously.

"Yes, Miss Granger? What is it _now?_" he sneered, never looking up from the page he was reading. From what Hermione could see, it wasn't even in English, though there was an illustration of a man with six heads.

"Can't I visit Harry and Ron? Or maybe they could come here?" She watched him pleadingly, studying his reaction.

"No."

"Could I write letters to them, then?

Still in that same bored voice, "No, Miss Granger, and that is final. No one is to know you are here."

She huffed in disbelief. "Please, sir, I think I'm going mad being by myself every day!"

Now he did look up at her, arching a single questioning brow. "Miss Granger, you are most certainly not by yourself. The role of a martyr does not suit you."

Hermione bit her lip nervously and mumbled, "No offense, sir, but you are not the best conversationalist." At his dark glare, she quickly amended herself. "Only because you don't seem to enjoy talking."

His dark eyes never left hers, but she noticed that the corners of his mouth turned down just slightly. "I do not enjoy talking to _imbeciles_."

"I'm _not_ an imbecile," she said indignantly.

He turned back to his book and flipped the page. "I do not enjoy talking to know-it-all Gryffindors _either._"

xXxXxXxXxXx

Hermione was certain that she really _was _going crazy. She had been locked in the same rooms for a little over two weeks now.

And. She. Couldn't. Take. It. Anymore.

As soon as Snape left the next morning, Hermione crept over to the door that would lead her to freedom (if only she could get through). As she rested her hand on the doorknob, she hesitated. What would happen if she tried to leave?

Maybe she would explode.

Hermione gave a snort of laughter as that thought flitted through her mind. That was just ridiculous. Well, not entirely. She _had_ heard of such things happening before, but that seemed a little extreme for her current situation. After all, it was Dumbledore who had set these wards. He wouldn't want her to blow up just because she didn't follow orders (which, let's face it, she had a slight tendency to do).

She rolled her shoulders impatiently, physically shaking off her hesitation. She was being absurd. She was a Gryffindor – known for her bravery – and if she was going to blow up, well then she wasn't afraid.

When she twisted the knob though, her mind suddenly went blank. What had she been about to do? She stood, her hand still resting on the knob, face scrunched in concentration. After several moments she sighed, giving up. It must not have been that important if she couldn't remember.

She turned and took a couple steps toward the sitting room. Before she had even made it to her favorite chair, she remembered. She was going to try to leave. Turning back to the door, she tried to open it once more. The same results – she instantly forgot what she was doing and did not remember until she was a reasonable distance away from the door and the escape it offered.

Of course. She should have known it wouldn't be that easy. Dumbledore must have cast a temporary Memory Charm on the doorknob. It must only activate for her; Snape and Dumbledore could come and go as they pleased.

Well, that was certainly better than exploding …

Hermione threw herself down on the nearby couch. She buried her face in the upholstery and let loose a muffled cry of frustration. What was going to happen if they never found the anti-curse? Would she be trapped here forever?

"_Why _are you screaming?"

She bolted into a sitting position, her eyes instantly locking onto Snape's. Hermione let out a tiny squeak of embarrassment. "Professor! I – uh- what are you doing back so soon?"

He sniffed indignantly and turned away from her, sweeping gracefully into the next room. "Not that it's any of your business," Hermione could still hear him from where she stood, "but I came back to get a book that I need for my classes today."

The faint whisper of turning pages floated from the bedroom. She clenched her hands nervously for a moment, and then slowly followed him. He stood bent over the yellowed pages of a book, hair draping down to conceal his face.

"Professor?"

A slight grunt was his only answer.

"I was just wondering … what are you teaching in your classes right now?"

He turned his head just enough for her to see his pursed lips. After a moment, he mumbled, "Everlasting elixirs. I've assigned an essay on them. We'll be brewing them in class next week."

She nodded her head in understanding, quickly biting back all of the questions that she was dying to ask. Snape stood again, the book grasped tightly in his hands. He eyed her carefully for a moment before brushing past her. The door clicked shut and then he was gone.

xXxXxXxXxXx

"Miss Granger, I have been giving your … _situation_ some thought. There is no way of telling how long you will have to stay here. That is why I have decided to continue your Potions instruction," Snape said over dinner that same day.

Hermione, who had been in the process of swallowing a large mouthful of tea, gasped and began to choke. After coughing several times to clear her throat of the liquid, she spluttered, "R-really Professor? Thank you so much!"

Snape appeared unfazed. "We will start tomorrow after dinner. Don't be late."

He quickly turned and stalked off to his own corner of the room, leaving Hermione blinking in surprise. Had Severus Snape just made a _joke?_


	7. Chapter 7

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: I'm sorry. I know that doesn't really make up for how long it's been since the last update. But I've just had a lot going on. I find inspiration in the strangest places it seems. I hope you enjoy. Reviews = Love.**

-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-

Snape shook his head, lips curling in disgust. "This isn't right, Miss Granger. It's supposed to be thick, almost solid. This is much too watery."

"What did I do wrong? I followed all of the instructions!" Hermione groaned.

"You must have waited too long to add the Spiderflower roots. I thought you were better than this, Miss Granger," he said, staring disparagingly down his nose at her.

"I really am trying, Professor. Honest."

He sniffed and turned his gaze back to the just slightly runny potion. "I would give it an E."

Hermione's face crumpled in disappointment. "I'll try harder next time. I'll get it right."

He nodded his head. "See that you do. Start again from scratch."

-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-

That night, Hermione lay in her bed, mentally exhausted. Never before had she been so challenged by a class. Not even Ancient Runes was this difficult. It seemed as if Snape was being even more of a perfectionist than usual. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that it was just her working, instead of an entire class.

He would stand behind her, studying her every move, waiting for her to make a mistake. And because he was constantly breathing down her neck, making her tremble with paranoia, mistakes were inevitable.

Twenty minutes into her first lesson, her hands had begun to shake. Then, when Snape had criticized her stirring technique, her heart had started racing. By the end of the lesson, she had been one remark away from a full-blown panic attack. She hadn't slept much that night, too busy replaying every single thing that she had done wrong.

These lessons would be the death of her. But she would do better tomorrow. Hermione shut her eyes tightly, feeling her resolve harden. She would impress Severus Snape if it was the last thing she did.

-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-

"I'm not impressed."

Hermione resisted the urge to scream. She stood, potion in hand, before Snape's desk in his classroom, where they had been having their lessons for the past week. Disbelief was etched across her face.

She had been so sure.

_So sure that this would be the one._ She had followed every instruction, prepared and added every ingredient _exactly _like she was supposed to. Truthfully, she thought that this was the best potion that she had ever brewed. So what was wrong with it?

"But, sir –"

"It's the wrong color, Miss Granger. An entire shade too dark." He wasn't even looking at her anymore, staring at a paper on his desk instead.

She wanted to argue. Wanted to argue so very badly. The textbook had said that it should be chartreuse, _and god damn it, wasn't this chartreuse? _But she held her tongue, something Hermione had become increasingly good at over the years.

Instead, she nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir. I'll start over."

And with a shattered ego, she returned to her cauldron.

-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-

Severus stumbled into his bedroom quite late that night. He had been poring over several new books he had just received, looking for anything that even hinted of the kind of curse that they were dealing with. And, of course, he had found nothing.

He was beginning to think that there was no way to end this. What if this was someone else's Sectumsempra, a curse of their own creation and a closely guarded secret? No. He would not even allow himself to contemplate that.

With a jolt, he realized that he had not even seen the girl since dinner. The pain must have been starting to set in by now. He listened closely for a while, deep breathing and the occasional whimper. With a very put-upon sigh, he rolled out of bed and staggered towards where she slept. How could she sleep through that anyway?

"Foolish little Gryffindor."

Her face was the only thing visible among the ocean of blankets that she slept with, so he brushed his hand across her cheek. She shifted ever so slightly in her sleep, her frown slowly melting away. He watched the rapid movement behind her eyelids and wondered what it was that she was seeing. What did know-it-all Gryffindors dream about?

Severus scowled and turned away. Practically falling onto his bed, he sank into a place where the world and its troubles wouldn't matter, if only for a little while.

-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-

_That bastard!_

Hermione had been trying so hard. So hard to prove that she wasn't just some stupid little Gryffindor. That she was smart and capable and _worthy_. But it seemed like Snape had set out to prove her wrong at every turn. Because _of course_ she couldn't live up to his standards. Why had she ever thought –_ even for a second_ – that she could earn his approval?

_Her Aging Potion had simmered for too long._

_ Her Memory Potion had cooked at too high a temperature._

_ Her Calming Draught had bubbled too much._

So, of course, it was only to be expected that one day she would crack. Really, she should have seen it coming.

"That's it! I can't do this anymore!"

Snape looked up at her from behind the piece of parchment that he held in front of his face. He did not seem the slightest bit fazed by her outburst. "What exactly are you talking about, Miss Granger?"

"This bloody potions thing! I can't do it anymore! Obviously, I'm worthless at everything I do. So what's the point in trying anymore? I give up!" She quickly blinked away the tears.

Snape snorted. "You'll go far in life with that philosophy, Granger."

Hermione rose to her full height, glaring at him from across the room. She clutched "_yet another worthless potion_" in her fist. "It's not as if you care. I've tried _so hard_ to impress you. But nothing is ever good enough. And nothing ever will be. So why should I keep trying?"

It was only after he stood from his chair that she realized what she had done and that this had not been a good idea at all. She should have just gone on biting her tongue and making horrid potions like a good, little girl is supposed to.

"So is that what you do, Granger? Give up when things get just a little bit tough? You have more potential in one finger than most students have in their entire bodies, but you'll never go anywhere in life if you can't see things through to the end. Besides, I thought you were doing quite well. I didn't think I needed to tell you that," he sneered, point an accusing finger toward her.

She blinked in surprise, too dumbfounded to think of a response. Then what he was saying _clicked_ into place and she was smiling. "You really think so, sir?"

He didn't respond. Instead, he scowled down his nose at her, silently challenging her. She was still smiling when she turned back to her cauldron, intent on making something that wasn't complete rubbish.


End file.
